


Testing

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: Kinkbruary 2021 [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Kinkbruary (Doctor Who), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scratching, Sensation Play, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: The Doctor is still pretty new to her skin. Martha Jones helps her discover some new things.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Martha Jones
Series: Kinkbruary 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139585
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	Testing

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7! Sensation play! 
> 
> This might not exactly be sensation play - it's a kink I'm not _super_ familiar with, but I hope I did it justice!

"It's nice to have skin," the Doctor said, apropos of nothing.

"Skin is pretty great, yeah," Martha Jones agreed, leaning against one of the crystal pillars in the Doctor's TARDIS control room. "Although you sound a bit like a serial killer when you put it like that." 

"Did you know that skin is the largest sensory organ on the human body?" The Doctor asked Martha, seemingly not listening. She was pacing now, waving her hands about and occasionally reaching out to give the TARDIS a gentle stroke.

"I did know that," Martha told the Doctor. "D'you sometimes forget that I'm a doctor?" She was smiling in spite of herself, because... well, it seemed like the Doctor was forever the Doctor, no matter what shape happened to be racing about.

Although this new version had just as much of a fondness for long coats, it seemed.

"Sorry, Martha," the Doctor said, and she shot Martha a sheepish grin. "Been a while since you've been back here, hasn't it?"

"This TARDIS, certainly," Martha agreed. "What brought on the skin comment?"

"Have you been on any other TARDIS?" The Doctor whirled around to look at her, eyes wide.

"It feels like your old TARDIS was a completely different one," said Martha. "Not half so many crystals, for one." 

"Still the same old girl," the Doctor said, and she stroked along the TARDIS console. "You know how it is, you get older, you want to change your look a bit." 

"You don't say," Marha said dryly, looking the Doctor up and down.

The Doctor, of course, didn't catch on to what it was Martha was hinting, because it seemed that the Doctor was going to be clueless, regardless of height, sex, or whatever the TARDIS happened to look like at the time. 

"So you add some crystals... or a new library... or some Gallifreyan..." The Doctor's face got a little wistful. "Or you get bigger!" She spread her arms out wide, and she was smiling bright enough to light the whole room. 

"Does she get growing pains?" Martha looked around the voluminous space, full of glowing golden crystals and hexagons. She hadn't remembered the Doctor discussing the TARDIS in such an... anthropomorphized sort of way, back in the day. 

Did it count as anthropomorphized, when it was about the Doctor, who was a Time Lord? Would that be... Gaillifreyanized or... 

She was clearly overthinking this. 

"Sometimes, yeah," said the Doctor. "Although she always lets her displeasure be known, as I'm sure you remember." 

"Not really, no," said Martha, her hands in her pockets as she watched the Doctor fiddle with a switch. "The TARDIS always seemed pretty happy, when I was on board."

"She likes you," the Doctor said, with confidence. "She's got good taste," she added, almost as an afterthought, and then she looked down at the console in front of her, her fingers twiddling the little dials and switches. 

"You flatterer, you," Martha said, making a dismissive hand gesture. 

The Doctor's hand came out, and when had she gotten this close? Martha looked down at their interlocked fingers, then looked up into the Doctor's face. The other woman's eyes had gone a little darker, the pupils wider. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and Martha's eyes followed it. 

Sexual tension with the Doctor wasn't _new_ \- far from it. But sexual tension that the Doctor acknowledged, that the Doctor _encouraged_... that was something else entirely. 

"D'you know why I brought up skin?" The Doctor asked, and that jolted Martha out of the daze she'd fallen into.

"Haven't the foggiest," Martha said faintly. She remembered when the Doctor had kissed her, right there in the hospital on the moon. She liked to think that she wasn't quite as likely to be sent down some giddy trail by the Doctor, although the way her heart was racing at their joined fingers belied that.

"I was thinking about how I've got all this new skin," the Doctor said, "and I don't know what it does. Other than, y'know, skin stuff." Her thumb was passing over the back of Martha's hand, slow little circles that were sending goose bumps up down Martha's back, like wind _whooshing_ through the canyons of a city. 

"Skin stuff," Martha echoed, not really paying attention. Was she imagining things, or was the light getting more golden? It seemed to be pulsing, just a little bit. In time with her heartbeat. Except that didn't make any sense, did it?

"Will you help me... experiment?" The Doctor looked at Martha through her eyelashes, and Martha licked her own lips, suddenly aware of just how dry her mouth was.

"Are you asking me this as a doctor?" Martha wanted to kick herself, but... well. Professional pride. Or something like that.

"I mean, I suppose," the Doctor said, and now she seemed to be coming back to herself. "But I'm always askin' you things of you as a doctor, same as I'm always askin' you stuff as all the rest of you." 

It took Martha a moment to parse what it was the Doctor had just said. Then she grinned. “You’re the same as ever,” she said, and she patted the Doctor on the cheek. It was a nervous little gesture - she half expected the Doctor to pull away, to start dashing about, maybe even mention _Rose_ again (hopefully not), but instead, she… leaned into the touch. She leaned into Martha’s hand, and she let the palm of it curve around her cheek. 

“But I’m not,” she said quietly. “I’m brand new. And… I trust you, to help me figure out all of the things that means. Because you’re the most reliable, trustworthy person I know, Martha Jones.”

Martha blushed, looking down for a moment, then meeting the Doctor’s ears. “Well,” she said, “since you’re putting so much trust into me. Hopefully I won’t mess up.”

“Oh, Martha,” the Doctor said, and she pressed a kiss to Matha’s palm. “I know you never would.” 

-*-

The Doctor lay belly down on Martha’s bed, her face pressed into her folded arms. Her bare back was laid out like the long expanse of empty sea. Her shoulder blades were like icebergs, and the ridges of her spine were something like islands.

Or maybe Martha was going too deep into her metaphors. The fact that she had the Doctor in _her bed_ , topless… it was a lot.

The fact that she had a bed on the TARDIS again, and it wasn’t the bed she’d had before, that was a lot in and of itself. That she was back here, traveling the way she had all those years ago… and now, here she was. 

“I’m not as young as I was,” Martha said, her voice a low murmur. She had put a few things on the bed beside her, as she paused, fiddling with the button of her trousers. “Is it okay if I’m just in my pants for this?”

The Doctor looked over, her cheek pressed into her arm, her expression drowsy. “Be my guest,” she said, and then she laughed, looking faintly sheepish. “You are already, a little bit. Although…” She yawned, and that was a new one. Had Martha ever seen the Doctor tired? This dozy, languid attitude was so utterly unlike the Doctor that Martha knew, and yet. 

“Although?” Martha shoved her trousers down, and was briefly grateful she was wearing new underwear. Nothing particularly fancy, but at least it didn’t have any holes or stains. 

“You’re always welcome here,” the Doctor said dreamily. “There’s always room for you, here in the TARDIS.”

“Oh,” Martha said, and how to respond to that? Lacking anything else to do, she climbed onto the bed carefully, self conscious in her t-shirt and knickers, her socked feet tucked against the Doctor’s calves as she rested on the Doctor’s backside. “So… you want to test different sensations with your new skin?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said. “That. That exactly.”

“And you wanted me to help you?” Martha reached a tentative hand out, and she brushed blond hair off of the back of the Doctor’s neck.

The Doctor sighed gustily, and it seemed like some of the tension left her shoulders as Martha’s fingers trailed across her skin. “Yeah,” she said, her tone dreamy. “Exactly.”

“Why me?” Martha wasn’t sure why she was pursuing this train of thought. It felt a little like prodding a bruise, waiting for the sharp stab of pain. Except there wasn’t any pain, not really. There was that fondness, deep under it all, but there wasn’t that same ache from the old days, when the Doctor had spiky brown hair and wore pinstripe suits. 

“Because you’re smart,” the Doctor said, “and you’re compassionate. And beautiful. And funny. And the bravest woman i’ve ever known.” She shivered, as the very tips of Martha’s fingers gently passed over the delicate skin of her back.

“You flatterer,” Martha said, distracted. She could see goosebumps breaking out, although the skin under her fingers was cooler than a human’s. 

“It’s why you like me,” the Doctor murmured. Then she made a surprised noise, as the cold metal came into contact with her skin.

Martha wasn’t sure where the Doctor had bought a metal comb. The other woman had told Martha that she’d wanted to test her own responsiveness to “various sensations, y’know?” with all her usual eloquence. Martha had gathered a random assortment of whatever she could find, before coming into her room to find the Doctor sprawled out, already sans boots and shirts.

The blue trousers were riding low, and the Doctor was shifting under Martha, just a bit. 

It figured. No version of the Doctor could sit still.

“That’s cold,” the Doctor said, and she shivered. She sighed, as Martha gently ran the teeth of comb across her back, exerting just enough pressure to bring little red lines across the skin. The Doctor was beginning to shake, and Martha paused.

“Too much?” She lifted the comb up.

“ _No_ ,” the Doctor said, her tone fervent. “No, no, definitely not.”

“If you’re sure,” Martha teased, and she brought the come further up, to tease along the delicate skin at the base of the Doctor’s neck.

The Doctor gave a choked off little moan, and she pressed her face further into her own arms, presenting more of her neck. She was squirming now, and Martha risked running the teeth through the Doctor’s hair, the very tips of the teeth raking across the Doctor’s scalp. She’s always been a sucker for having her head scratched, and it seemed that the Doctor was in the same boat. 

“Oh,” the Doctor managed. “That… that didn’t feel so… good last… time…” 

“No?” Martha withdrew the comb from the Doctor’s hair, and drew it over the Doctor’s bicep, bulging from the position she was lying.

“No,” the Doctor said, and she shivered. “D’you wanna try s-s-somethin’ else?” 

“Sure,” Martha said, and then she shook her head, coming back to herself. “Sorry,” she said, and she dropped the comb on the side of the bed, groping along the pile of things. 

The next item was a little more familiar - a Wartenberg wheel, the same one she’d used for testing nerves. It took some of the sexiness out of the situation, running it up and down the expanse of the Doctor’s back. It didn’t seem to illicit the same reaction, although the way the Doctor wriggled against her was still enjoyable.

_If I had a cock_ , Martha thought, looking down the line of her own body, between her breasts, _I’d want to stick it in her right now, like this._ She ground her hips against the Doctor’s backside, and was she imagining things, or was the Doctor grinding back against her? 

“I don’t know if I like that,” the Doctor said, after a few minutes of the little wheel moving along her.

“Just as well,” Martha said, putting it beside the comb. “It reminds me of work too much, honestly.”

“Wouldn’t want to remind you of work, when I’m asking you to do me a sexy favor,” the Doctor said.

“Oh, so it’s a _sexy_ favor now,” Martha teased, as she let her own fingernails trail up and down the Doctor’s sides. 

The Doctor squeaked, and she was wriggling with _fervor_ now. “I mean,” she said, and her voice had gone breathy, “I had hoped it’d be a sexy favor. Sort of. A favor from someone sexy. I think. Um.” She groaned, pressing her forehead into her folded up arms. Her shoulders seemed to be struggling to break free of her skin. “This didn’t used to be this complicated,” she complained.

“In fairness,” Martha said, taking some pity, “you didn’t used to try.”

“True, that,” the Doctor agreed. 

“So you get points for effort.” Martha picked up another item from the pile - a makeup brush. The brush part of it was made of some kind of animal hair, although Martha had never been sure what kind of fur it was, exactly. They showed up in her bathroom on the TARDIS, and who was she to question? She hadn’t used this one before, and she paused to brush the soft tip of the brush against the pad of her thumb, then began to gently dust it over the Doctor’s back. 

“I’m the one who gives out…” The Doctor trailed off, and she moaned like she was being paid for it. Her hips full on _bucked_ , and Martha had to hold on with her knees. 

“You’re the one who gives out?” Martha hopefully provided, and she let the soft bristles carefully flutter across the back of the Doctor’s neck, right where the blond hairs started growing.

The Doctor _keened_ , and she thrashed under Martha. Her hips were grinding, and then she was shifting her position, gripping the duvet with both hands, her face pressed into the fabric. 

Martha gently, methodically worked her way across the Doctor’s back. There was a spot, right under the left shoulder blade, that made the Doctor go utterly rigid. There was a spot along the ribs that made the Doctor make some squeaky noise between moan and a giggle, and when Martha moved lower, the Doctor became much more muffled. When Martha risked a glance up towards the Doctor’s head, she saw that the other woman was _biting_ the duvet.

_That’s a new one,_ Martha thought, and she shifted lower. The Doctor’s legs opened accommodatingly, as Martha scooted lower. When Martha’s knee pressed experimentally between her legs, the Doctor moaned again, and she bore down on it, her hips wriggling, until she was almost straddling Martha’s thigh.

It was an awkward position, and Martha should probably have paused, taken the Doctor’s trousers off, maybe even rolled the Doctor over. 

But no. That might break whatever spell the two of them were currently under, and she’d rather cut off a limb than do _that_. So she kept brushing against the Doctor’s lower back, pressing forward with her knee. On a whim, she brought her nails into play, scratching down the Doctor’s side and brushing along the other side, then switching sides.

The Doctor _wailed_ , and the grinding of her hips got faster. She thrashed against Martha like a fish on a dock, and then she went utterly still. Her cunt was hot and sticky, soaking into the fabric of her trousers and smearing across Martha’s leg, and Martha ran a hand across the Doctor’s hip, giving it a squeeze.

“So,” the Doctor said, breaking the silence, “I think my skin works.”

It was such a non-sequitur, Doctor-y thing to say that Martha burst out laughing. “That’s good to know,” she said. 

“Although,” the Doctor said, and now she was getting up on her elbows, looking over one shoulder at Martha with a calculating look, “it occurs to me that I should return the favor. Help you test out yours.”

“I haven’t got a new body,” Martha pointed out, and she had to grin at the awkward, ungainly way the Doctor got herself free, flopping flat on her back in front of Martha. Her breasts were _perfect_ \- pale, with hard, pink nipples that looked like they were aching to go into Martha’s mouth. 

“Still,” said the Doctor, and then she was pressing herself against Martha - there hadn’t been any in between phase, just one minute lying down, the next pressing into Martha, and oh, her breasts were soft against Martha’s own. “Can’t hurt to check, can it?”

She kissed Martha’s smiling mouth, and her fingers were worming their way up under Martha’s shirt, leaving trails of warmth in their wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you have an interest in Kinkbruary? You can find out more about it, including the prompts at https://twitter.com/_zaffrin/status/1352316453232504833
> 
> Also, come find me on twitter, TheseusInTheMaz!


End file.
